


kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor

by nerdyscully



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: (well the first kiss not in front of an audience), Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Sharing Clothes, but stefon gets it, seth doesn't know how to talk about his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyscully/pseuds/nerdyscully
Summary: An accidental sleepover, some unspoken feelings, and a kiss.
Relationships: Seth Meyers/Stefon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 164





	kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to write something that WASN'T fluffy for these two, and i DO have an idea for angst, but it's so hard to imagine these two not being happy. i want them to be happy! they waited for so long! i am a simple woman who writes simple fluff...
> 
> i had to dedicate this to my friend haymaker (of whom i don't know the actual name, come to think of it; we're recent friends, okay?) because they've put up with me rambling about sethon in their tumblr messages for a few weeks now, and they are a wonderful listener. they always have the best HCs to share, and the image of stefon in seth's clothes was just too tempting, i had to write something with it. i hope that you like this, i had so much fun writing it!

They hadn’t intended to have a sleepover. Really, it seemed like kind of a juvenile word for what had happened. What had happened was that Stefon had come over after a show on Saturday, a show that he wasn’t even asked to be a part of. He just hung out backstage while the show went on, saying hi to Cecily and Mulaney and Andy and Fred and of course, Seth. To all of them. And they didn’t ask why Stefon was there, they just smiled brightly and greeted him with hugs and “so good to see you!”s and “so glad you stopped by!”s. Stefon was lucky, and he knew he was lucky, to be able to show up at his (sometimes) workplace and be received so well.

But it was always Seth who he looked forward to seeing the most. Of course, that was no surprise to anyone. Especially not to anyone on the cast or crew. Hell, even Lorne knew about their friendship—but then again, Lorne knew everything. It was Seth whose eyes brightened a little more when Stefon made one of his surprise appearances backstage. It was Seth who, no matter how tired he looked, smiled and said, “hey buddy!” and brought Stefon in for a hug, always leaving behind the smell of his cologne and the cigarette he had stress-smoked earlier that day. Then, after the show, he would take Stefon to the afterparty with the cast and they’d sit in their own little corner, talking to whoever approached them, but mostly just sharing jokes and stories over drinks. Seth never stuck around the party for too long when Stefon was with him; usually, they fucked off after an hour or two and either got some incredibly unhealthy food or saw a late night movie or just went to Seth’s place.

Last night had been a “ditch the party and go to Seth’s place” kind of night. They had been having more of them since Seth had become recently single.

(“You know this doesn’t mean we’re going to say you’re single on Update, right?” Lorne had told him. “It adds flavor to the Stefon segments.” Seth had brushed it off as just Lorne wording things weird and followed what Mulaney wrote.)

It wasn’t something Seth wanted to dwell on much; the relationship wasn’t as serious as he had made it out to be on Update, anyway, and it seemed destined to happen. “Work is my wife,” Seth joked all the time.

(“A pretty ugly wife to have,” someone on the cast had replied once—it was Fred or Andy, Seth couldn’t remember. He had rolled his eyes and scoffed, like he usually did when people were right but he didn’t want to admit it.)

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried by the fact that he was still single at this age, when all his friends were getting married or about to. He heard the concern in his mother’s voice when she joked about it. Maybe he was just unlucky.

Well, no. He knew why his relationships hadn’t worked out, at least the ones that he had been in the past few years. He knew exactly why it was, _what_ it was—it stood six feet and two inches tall, had the bluest eyes Seth had ever seen, and had a laugh that reminded him of summer.

What Seth was, he realized, was a coward. And maybe one day he wouldn’t be. He hoped that day occurred sometime in this decade.

That day wasn’t really in his mind, though, as he stepped through the door of his apartment after fiddling around for a moment with the key—Stefon had been making him laugh. They were still laughing as they tumbled into the place and Seth flicked on the lights. Stefon walked over to the kitchen, breezing past everything like it was his own place, and it sort of had become his, in a way. Sometimes Seth would find little things: a ring that had slipped off, a bobby pin on the couch, an eyeliner pencil next to an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Stefon lingered in his home, just as he did in every other aspect of his life. But Seth liked it that way.

Stefon, currently, was searching his fridge for something to eat (“I’m _starving_,” he had lamented in the car, “Barely ate a thing today.”). “On a salad kick lately?” He asked.

“If I am, I haven’t noticed,” Seth replied. “Though I guess I have been eating a lot of them lately. It’s nice to eat something and _not_ feel guilty for it, you know? God, never get old.”

Stefon giggled. “You’re not old yet. Yeah, you’ve got a few graying spots, but it’s attractive. You’re a silver fox now. Why do you put peanut butter in the fridge?”

“Do you not?”

“No…I don’t want cold peanut butter.”

“Huh. Maybe if I had a girlfriend I’d know these things,” Seth joked, and his laugh was the first one that night that wasn’t genuine.

Stefon let out a little “pshh” noise. “I don’t think it’s a girlfriend thing, Seth Meyers, I think you’re just weird.” He closed the fridge and started rummaging through the pantry. “Poptarts!”

“Oh, yeah, you can have one if you want,” Seth said, though he didn’t need to; Stefon was already unwrapping it. He poured himself a glass of whiskey with a large ice cube and made his way to the couch. Stefon followed, three bites into his first Poptart. “Wait, you’re not gonna toast it? You know where the toaster is, right?”

“Stefon eats Poptarts cold,” he replied with a shrug and a full mouth.

“Okay, now _that_ is weird.”

“It tastes better! And you don’t have to wait for them to cool down. Anything good on TV?”

Seth flopped onto the couch, and Stefon followed. Their knees knocked against each other and their shoulders pressed together, a comfortable heat settling. They watched a bit of whatever movie was on MTV—a romcom from the mid 2000s that Seth was certain he had gone on a date to, but couldn’t remember who with. Done with his Poptart, Stefon rested his head on Seth’s shoulder. He still smelled like artificial strawberry, but he was warm and close and—Stefon. He was Stefon, so Seth was happy to have him rest against him while Jennifer Aniston and…whoever the guy in this movie was fell in love over a series of misunderstandings.

~~~

When he woke up, Seth was slumped over, head rested against the couch’s arm. Oh, his back was going to _kill_ him for this. Don’t get old, indeed.

And Stefon was still draped over him. Ah.

He had seen Stefon sleep lots now. He took naps at Seth’s house, in his office, all the time. He had slept a whole night in his house before, woke up to take an early morning subway trip back to place, and left Seth a note with lots of x’s and o’s at the end. Secretly, Seth still regretted that he wasn’t able to cook breakfast for Stefon that day.

But now, he was awake before his friend—his friend was practically _on top_ of him, darkened eyelashes brushing very top of his cheeks, eyes fluttering just a bit under smudgy-lined lids.

He was beautiful. Like always.

Seth must’ve stayed there, under him, for about twenty minutes, alternating between looking at Stefon and up at the ceiling. His thoughts slow and foggy in the way they usually were at 7 AM, but the one thing that stood out was how nice this was. How warm, how comfortable. It would probably have been even more comfortable in proper sleeping clothes and a bed, but he wasn’t sure if that would ever happen, so this was close to it as he could get. He supposed he could live with that.

He felt Stefon shift on top of him and heard him groan. He raised himself from his spot on top of Seth, looking (adorably) bewildered for a moment before his furrowed brow turned into a raised one. “Oh, uh, g’morning, Seth Meyers.”

“Morning,” Seth replied, raspy. He stretched his arms out and groaned, too. Yup. His poor back.

“Sorry. I didn’t know we were gonna fall asleep last night.” Stefon rubbed at his eyes, sighing when he pulled back his hands and they were covered in liner.

“It’s okay. You sleep okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. You make a good pillow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me I need to work out,” Seth joked, head lolling back.

“Be quiet,” Stefon said. “You were very comfortable. Um, can I use your shower? Stefon’s hair is all greasy and we won’t even _talk_ about the eyeliner situation.”

“Sure. I’ll lay some clothes out for you, too, though I think you’ll be disappointed with my wardrobe.”

“Well, you can pull it off. That’s what matters.”

“Sure. I’ll set some on my bed for you, and I’ll get started on breakfast.”

“Poptarts don’t take _that_ long.”

“Hey!” There was a playful swat to Stefon’s arm. “I can make, like, scrambled eggs, and I think I’ve got some bacon in there. And toast, even.”

“Mm, sounds perfect. I’ll be out in a jiffy then.” Stefon planted a sweet kiss to Seth’s cheek, very chaste. Just a press of the lips, and then he was off to take his shower. It wasn’t something foreign to them, but Seth felt heat rise in his cheeks anyway.

Once he heard the shower running, Seth went to his room to change into something more appropriate for Sunday breakfast. Sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He popped a mint in his mouth while he scrambled the eggs and fried the bacon. He wondered why he didn’t make breakfast like this more. Maybe it was because it tasted better when you had someone to share it with.

It wasn’t long before he heard the shower turn off and, a few minutes after that, bare feet padding through the hallway. “Hey, breakfast’s done, just gonna make some toast—” Seth said, turning to face his friend. He nearly dropped the plate he had gotten out of the cupboard.

Stefon was wearing the sweater and shorts Seth had set out for him, and though the sweater was tight around his broad shoulders and the shorts were shorter on him than Seth, he looked even more beautiful than he had that morning. “Sorry,” Stefon began, “I haven’t done my eyeliner yet, and I’m letting my hair dry.” He pulled on the sleeves of Seth’s sweater, balling his hands into a fist.

Seth set the plate down and stepped forward. “No, no, Stefon, you look—it suits you.” Without a second thought, he reached forward and played with the little curl of hair that rested in the middle of Stefon’s forehead. “You should wear your hair like this more often.”

“Not flat iron it? I guess it would be good for my hair.” Stefon let out a breathy chuckle. He stepped forward, too, and they were close. So close. The strawberry Poptart smell had been replaced by the familiar scent of Seth’s bodywash.

It was quiet. Light streamed through the small window of the kitchen, warming Seth’s back. “You’re beautiful,” he told Stefon. “You know that, right?”

Stefon’s reply came in the form of leaning down and capturing Seth’s lips in a kiss. Seth rose just barely on the balls of his feet to meet him. It wasn’t like the kiss they had shared before, in front of an audience and cameras and millions of viewers at home. It was something completely different, but it was genuine. Seth’s thumb rubbed along the smooth skin of Stefon’s cheek as they kissed, lips moving unrushed against each other. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there kissing, it could’ve been five seconds or five minutes.

When they pulled away, Stefon rested his forehead against Seth’s, letting out a pleased sigh. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do that earlier,” Seth said after ruminating on it for a moment.

Stefon simply replied “shh” and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay. I’m just—happy that you wanted to, I guess.”

“I’ve always wanted to. I was just too much of a coward to admit it.”

“Well, I _am_ irresistible.” There was another kiss to Seth’s temple, and they both laughed softly. “Our breakfast is going to get cold.”

“Mm, yeah, let’s eat. But I don’t want you to go home just yet.”

“Not going anywhere, Seth Meyers,” Stefon promised with a kiss to the side of Seth’s mouth, then under his ear, then his jaw.

They ate their breakfast, and in a moment of silence, in between the joking and the teasing, Stefon smiled. His eyes, free of makeup, crinkled at the corners.

Seth kicked himself internally for waiting so long, thinking about how he could’ve seen that smile every day for the past year if he had just admitted how he felt. But something told him that Stefon wouldn’t mind making up for lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, comments are always appreciated. come say hi to me on tumblr (gobbluthlesbian) if you are so inclined. xoxoxox


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